


Believe

by kribban



Category: Fake News FPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kribban/pseuds/kribban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For SailorPtah's prompt: "Stephen" is kidnapped for nefarious reasons. Jon and a crack team of correspondents must stage a rescue mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jon sang to himself as he entered his office, carrying a cup of coffee and a large bag of donuts. He just needed to get his computer and then his Friday could kick off. 

Sally looked up from her computer as he passed and followed him into his office. ”Good morning, Jon. I have some phone messages for you.”

”Good morning, Sal. Can you put them on my desk? I'm kind of late to the writers' meeting.” 

”Sure thing. I won’t be here when you get back. You remember I have the afternoon off, right?”

He nodded.

”Do you also remember that you have a lunch date at _Pecoral_ today?” She looked him over, a little bit hesitantly. “The five star restaurant?”

Jon sighed. ”I don’t suppose wardrobe is open today?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. But, you know, you look passable. Nice even. In a casual Friday kind of way. Hey, that’s an idea. Maybe you could go to T.G.I. Friday’s instead?”

”That’s sweet of you, but there’s really no getting out of this. Stephen has been planning this for weeks. If I were to back out now…” 

She gave him a look of sympathy. ”Will you get punished?”

He shook his head quickly, practically feeling the blush spread across his cheeks. “Other than having my ear talked off, no.”

He stopped in his quest for his computer to check his phone quickly. Nope, he hadn't received any new messages during his ride over here. Stephen hadn't texted him since last night, when he had demanded that Jon make sure not to smile or look him directly in the eyes at the restaurant, and would not talking to him be too much to ask? The text had soon been followed by another in which Stephen took everything back and begged to be forgiven. Jon had just sent one reply: “Goodnight, babe. See you tomorrow.”

Jon put his phone away. If Stephen kept this up it might mean he was finally getting over his anxiety about coming out.

His computer was on top of the book shelf, hidden under a pile of printouts. Jon retrieved it and carefully placed the bag of donuts on top of it before picking it up with one hand, Styrofoam cup in the other.

”Look, you’re sweet to worry about me, Sal. But you really don’t need to.”

She laughed. “Oh, this is not me worrying. This is me snooping around in search of juicy gossip.”

Jon took a sip of his coffee. The caffeine was already calming his morning nerves. Today was going to be a good day.

”Well, you won’t be getting any from me. Just put whatever you want me to read on my desk and I’ll check it over when I get back. I’ll be in the orgy room if you need me.”

She nodded.

“And Sally?” He fired off what his acting coach had once told him was his most sincere smile. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

***

Jessica waved her hand in the air.

The writers had all filed out one after the other, to do their last few hours of preparation before the weekend. He had asked Jessica and Sam to stay behind so he could talk to them about what would be expected of them on Monday. 

”Please don’t take this the wrong way, boss, but… why am I here exactly? I’m not a writer, I’m fantastic at memorizing my lines and what you’ve pitched today will probably go out the window on Monday.”

Jon nodded. “True.”

”So why couldn’t I just have come in on Monday?”

”You get paid for a full week’s work.”

”I know! I’m not complaining. I’m just wondering what exactly I’m contributing with.”

”I think it’s a good exercise. Since the two of you are scheduled for Monday it’s important that you familiarize yourself with the material.” Jon squirmed slightly in his seat. He didn’t like the way Jessica was looking at him. College-aged people may be his core demographic but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make him uncomfortable sometimes. “Even if the material may change.”

He gave Sam a meaningful look.

She sat up straight and turned to Jessica. “Jon is right. It’s true that I’d rather be at home watching the new coat of paint in the nursery dry, but I recognize the importance of spending several hours listening to the writers dithering through their brainstorming sessions.”

Jon gave her the evil eye. “Thanks a lot, Sam.”

“You’re welcome. Now, if I’m not mistaken, you have an important date in about twenty minutes, so let’s let this little girl off the hook so she can stop creeping me out with that vacant stare of hers.”

Jon checked his watch. Sure enough, it was already noon.

Jessica pouted. “I do not have a vacant stare. That comment was ageist.”

Sam pinched Jessica’s cheek. “You so do, sweetheart.”

Jon took out his phone and dialed Stephen’s number. By all calculations, Stephen would already be on his way to pick him up. Jon glanced down on his chest and sighed. Why had he not remembered to put on anything else but a grey T-shirt? He had a blazer in his office. With a little luck that would be enough for whatever dress code this particular restaurant had.

Stephen was not picking up. Jon put the phone back in his pocket.

”Okay, let’s call it a day for now. But be here at eight a.m. sharp on Monday.”

Jessica nodded fervently. “Absolutely. I won’t forget it. Do you need a ride?”

Jon shook his head. “Thanks, but Stephen promised he would have his driver would pick me up.”

She blinked. “Your date’s name is Stephen?”

”Uh, my _boyfriend's_ name is Stephen.” Jon felt his heart race a little. Sure, Jessica was young enough to be open-minded about these sorts of things but you never knew. “Is that going to be a problem?”

”No, no, no. Hell no! I’m cool with that. It’s just, I was thinking, that’s such a common name. I mean, there must be hundreds of thousands of gay or bisexual men named Stephen who live in New York and have a personal chauffeur.”

Sam put her hand on Jessica’s shoulder. It looked almost maternal. “It’s the one you’re thinking of, sweetie.”

Jessica’s mouth fell open but she quickly composed herself. “Oh.” She had a distinct look of disappointment on her face.

Jon’s mind raced with possible things to say ranging from “Hey, he’s not so bad once you get to know him” to “The heart wants what it wants” when Sam suddenly pointed in the direction of the hallway.

”Is that the fire alarm?”

Jon cocked his head, and sure, he could hear the shrill sound of the alarm.

Before either of them had a chance to react, the door flung open to reveal Rick who looked as worried as he probably was physically capable of looking. “Guys, we need to evacuate. Come on.” 

Jon folded his computer and pulled out the plug. “Is there a fire?”

Sam and Jessica quickly gathered their things and were out through the door before he had even gotten up from his seat. He followed his chief of security out into the corridor. “Where is the fire?”

“There’s no fire.” Rick lowered his voice so that the two women in front of them couldn’t hear him. “There is a suspicious package in the mail room. It's probably nothing, but we need to check it out. I'm calling in the bomb squad as soon as I have word that everyone is clear of the building.”

Jon’s first thought was the blazer and how upset Stephen would be if he showed up without it.  
His second… “The dogs! What about the dogs?”

”We're short on staff today, both human and canine. Evacuation shouldn't be a problem.”

Jon felt slightly calmer. “What do you mean with a suspicious package?”

“The scanners picked up that it contains some kind of electronic equipment. It's most likely a cell phone but we can't be sure it's not rigged to explosives. And considering it just turned itself on, and that it's addressed to you personally and doesn't have a return address, well, we can't be too sure.” 

”What do you mean it just turned itself on?”

Rick shrugged. “It started ringing. Well, ringing isn't accurate. It started playing a ringtone.”

Jon reached for his phone and there, on the screen, the little green receiver was still blinking.

He grabbed Rick’s arm and stopped him in his tracks, which was no small feat. “Which ringtone?”

 

***

The package was a brown padded envelope, the kind that he had sent audition tapes in when he was still trying to be an actor. That was way back in the 90’s of course. These days the audition tape had probably been replaced by a USB-stick.

Jon had dialed Stephen’s number several times to make sure that the opening chorus of ‘Some Nights’ started and stopped playing in correlation to his phone calls. The package absolutely contained Stephen’s phone. That didn’t mean it didn’t contain anything else also. 

Jon carefully picked it up. It weighed about as much as he could imagine an envelope containing an iPhone would weigh. He ran his fingers over it; trying to trace the contours of the phone, but the padding made it impossible. 

The smart thing to do was to call the police and let their technicians examine it.  
It was the most reasonable course of action. 

He tore the package open. 

The phone fell out into his hand, seemingly unaltered. He checked the rest of the envelope. It was empty.

”There's no bomb! You can come back in.”

The door opened and Sam and Jessica walked in. Jessica looked from the package on the sorting table to Jon’s face to the package again. “Jesus Christ, did you open it? Don’t you remember the UNA bomber? You could have been killed!” 

“Well, I wasn’t.” 

He looked to Sam. “Did you call?” 

She nodded. “There was no reply at his home and the assistant producer I talked to said they haven’t seen or heard from him today, but that it’s not unusual for him to skip the Friday meeting without forewarning, so she wasn’t worried.”

”Thanks.” Jon ran his thumb over the phone’s glassy surface. He pressed the button, making the screen light up. The wallpaper was the same as the last time he saw it. He checked the applications to see what had last been added; an app that tracked the movements of brown bears in the national parks. Yeah, that’s something Stephen would download.

”You should check the call log. He might have gotten a call from an unknown number or dialed one.”

“I was just about to do that.” Jon quickly found the right icon and selected it. The top five entries were calls from his number. The ones below were all numbers he didn’t recognize. 

He scrolled down to see if any of Stephen’s contacts had called but all he could see was numbers. That was odd. It wouldn’t be strange if Stephen hadn’t bothered to put him in as a contact considering he called him enough to have his number memorized, but the others?

Jon opened the list of contacts. It was empty except for one entry - guiltyascharged – which had been added… at three a.m. this morning. Jon’s pulse quickened. He dialed.

There was a click at the other end and a male voice answered.

”Who is this?”

”I’m really sorry to bother you, but this is my friend’s phone, and…”

He could almost hear the grin on the other man’s face. “Took you long enough, Jon.”

”Do I know you?”

”Is ‘friend’ the euphemism you’re using these days, Jon? I thought New York was a thoroughly liberal place. Or maybe that’s how you see him and you’ve just strung him along all this time.”

The tone of the other guy’s voice was taunting. Jon squeezed the phone harder. “Where is Stephen?”

”He is with me. Now, this is what I want you to do. You come to the co-ordinates I’ve given you, alone and un-armed. Don’t bother wearing a bug or tracer because I have the equipment to detect it. If you notify the authorities I will know and I’ll make sure your… friend is taken care of before you take a single step outside that door.”

Jon’s head was swimming with panicked and conflicting thoughts. “What co-ordinates? You haven’t given me any.”

”Oh Jon, you really need to pay more attention to your employees. Then again, that’s not something you’re known for, is it?”

”If you hurt Stephen... I swear I-“

”Pfft! I wouldn’t hurt him. I’d just be changing his mind about a few things. Carrie Heron was a brilliant scientist, Jon. Traitorous, but brilliant. You know, you really should be happy about this. After all, you’re the one who has a problem with conservative pundits.”

Something inside Jon clicked and fell into place.

”What are you going to do with him?”

”Nothing if you follow my terms. I’ve said all you need to know. You have two hours.”

There was a click and the line went dead.

He stood frozen for a few moments. Sam was suddenly in front of him, giving his arm a firm squeeze. “Jon, what is it? Who was that?”

Jon was still clutching the phone in a death grip. It took a few seconds for him to find his voice.

”Stephen has been kidnapped by Steven Crowder, who is threatening to Counter-Thought him if I don’t meet his demands.”

***

”Who are you? On second thought, I don't really give a damn about who you are. I demand that you let me go at once!”

The young man who had just entered whistled and leaned back against the table. He was fairly attractive now that Stephen could finally get a good look at him; in a boyish sort of way.

”So impolite, Mr. Colbert. And here I thought you and I were on the same side. At least,” he made a show of looking at his dozen a dime watch. “For another hour or so.”

Stephen struggled against his restraints. “What are you going to do with me?”

His captor took out his phone and started fiddling with it. 

”It’s funny you should ask that, because oh boy, do I like the answer! It’s quite simple actually. I'm going to change everything about who you are.”

Stephen didn’t have the faintest clue what the manboy was talking about, but whatever it was, it didn’t sound pleasant. Still, he knew better than to show fear. You mustn’t show weakness in the face of terrorism. He was pretty sure that it counted as terrorism to be kidnapped by a handsome young man without having negotiated it first. 

”Why? What do you have against me?”

The handsome young kidnapper looked surprised. After a few seconds he started laughing. ”You? My dear moderately successful namesake, this has _nothing_ to do with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stared at Jon in confusion. “Crowder? The comedian? The guy who dissed you on his YouTube show?”

He nodded. 

“Jon, we have to call the police, right now.”

Jon turned to Jessica. “Rick went to shut down the fire alarm in the basement. Bring him here.”

She nodded and all but ran out of the room.

”No police. He threatened to…” Jon grabbed Sam’s hand as if he was afraid she would reach for a telephone. “He said he’ll know if we get the authorities involved. Maybe he has a man inside the police department, I don’t know, but I can’t risk it.”

Sam pulled her hands free. “Maybe this is a prank? Maybe he got a hold of Stephen’s phone somehow and this is all an elaborate set-up to get you to make a fool of yourself?”

Jon shook his head. “If Stephen had lost his phone he would have called me.”

”Maybe he doesn’t know?”

There were three flights of stairs down to the basement. At the speed that Jessica was keeping it would take her less than a minute to arrive there.

”This number was added at three a.m. this morning. Trust me, if Stephen lost his phone it wouldn’t take nine hours for him to notice.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he’s in on it.”

Jon clenched his jaws. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, you know him better than I do. What else did Crowder say?”

”He said he had given me coordinates and that I should arrive there alone, within two hours, unarmed and unbugged and not to alert the authorities.”

”It sounds like a trap. It probably is.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to go anyway, aren’t you?”

Jon nodded. “But I’m going to need all the backup I can get.”

Sam looked like she was about to say something when Rick reappeared in the room, not the slightest bit out of breath despite the fact that he must have run up the stairs. Jessica followed close behind.

”You wanted me?”

Jon nodded. “Who else is in the building?”

”No one but us. There were only about three or four people who were evacuated. The rest had already left for lunch when the automatic pager when out. Should I recall them?”

Jon paused for a moment. More people would make it harder to do what he wanted to do without raising any questions. “No. Send out a text message that there is no danger but that the building is off limits until tomorrow. Make up an excuse. Then call Kiran and Nick and tell them to get up here ASAP. Tell them… tell them they’re going to enjoy it.”

Before he had finished the sentence, Rick had already begun texting.

Jon turned to Sam again. “Sam, can you stay?”

She nodded. “Shutting down the building at noon on a Friday? That’s a lot of people who will be wanting to get to their computers and files for the weekend.”

“I don’t care. They can show reruns all of next week for all I care.”

A slight buzzing sound was heard. Jessica pulled out her phone. “It says not to return to the building until you get clearance from the head of security. Oh there’s the new one. Temporary smoke damage, that’s clever.”

Rick shrugged. “They’ll think I’m bullshitting them, but they respect me enough to stay away. Look, Jon. I may be out of my league here, but I’m sensing there is something other than general post-fire-alarm jitteriness going on here.”

Rick looked tense, like he was prepared to spring into action, but in a way that radiated cool competence rather than hot-headedness. Jon wanted so badly to be like him.

”Stephen’s been kidnapped and I’m going to go get him. I need Kiran and Nick to help me with surveillance and I need whatever non-lethal, easy-to-hide weapons you’ve got laying around that can pass through a metal detector. I also need whatever street knowledge you have on the availability of Counter Thought technology.”

Jessica raised her hand. “Weapons? There was nothing in my workplace orientation that mentioned weapons.”

”And, Jessica…” Jon pointed at her. “Jessica needs to go home.”

“Why? We’re safe here, aren’t we?”

Sam turned to her. She looked determined and ruthless in the way that made Jon glad they were on the same team.

”You need to go because we’re about to do some illegal shit, and he doesn’t want any of that to touch you.”

Rick passed Jessica on his way out, but she was too stunned to notice. Finally she stuck her chin out and crossed her arms in an apparent attempt to toughen herself up. If Jon wasn’t so goddamn terrified he would find it endearing.

”Well, who says I haven’t done illegal things in the past?”

Jon doubted it, but he didn’t have time to argue with her. “If you want to stay, you have to do exactly as I say.”

She nodded solemnly; all traces of youthful excitement gone. “I promise.”

”Go down to my office and go through the stack of phone messages on my desk. There will be one from Steven Crowder. Bring it here.”

***

Stephen pressed his lips together and turned his head away. The straw touched his cheek.

”Oh come on! I know you’re hungry.”

”You’re misinformed. I have a stomach of steel. I can go days without eating.”

“Oh really?”

His kidnapper put the jug down and reached for a white paper box. He opened it and held it up in front of Stephen's face so that he could see the neat compartments of whipped cream, caramel sauce and what looked like nuts coated in sugar, arranged around the thick slice of dark, glistening, absolutely delicious-looking chocolate cake.

”Well, in that case, I’ll just have to throw this cake out. I certainly won’t eat it. It has way too many calories for a balanced diet. It’s too bad, really. I asked the waitress to put on extra caramelized nuts. Well, I guess the rats will enjoy them. Unless you've changed your mind?”

Stephen whimpered. He had skipped his late night snack to work up an appetite for Pecoral’s roasted lamb with creamed potatoes and the hunger was starting to get to him.

”How do I know you haven’t drugged it, if you won’t eat it?”

His kidnapper picked up a spoon and scooped up a large chunk of chocolate cake which he held up in front of Stephen’s face.

”Because I’m going to drug you later. And you’ll deal with it better if you don’t have an empty stomach, which will spare me the trouble of wiping up your vomit from the floor.” 

Stephen’s mind raced. Even if his hands and feet weren’t tied and his entire body didn’t ache from exhaustion, he was unarmed, in a locked room with a captor who looked to be at least twice as strong as he was on a good day. Everything he had fantasized about doing in a situation like this was impossible.

Except… He could stall. Stalling was good.

”Fine,” he made sure to spit the word out. “But make sure you don’t get any cream on my shirt. It probably costs more than you make in a month, doing… whatever it is that you do.”

His kidnapper had a hurt look on his face when he shoved the piece of cake into Stephen’s mouth. He made sure to chew slowly, wanting to put as much time between eating and being drugged as possible.

It really was a delicious cake.

***

Kiran cracked his knuckles. “Okay, so we’re definitely leaving normal operating procedures?”

Jon nodded. “Yes. If anyone asks I made you do it. I can punch you in the face if you want to.”

”Both of us?” Nick was hooking up his computer to the server, standing by to follow any command that Kiran would give him. “That’s kind of far-fetched, no offense.”

”If you don’t want to do this…” _Stephen is fucked_ “I don’t…” 

Kiran leaned in over the desk. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re doing it. In fact Nick and I have been dying to take the wheels out since last time, haven’t we Nick?”

Nick looked sheepish. “Yeah, trawling through Lexus Nexis gets kind of old after a while.”

”Are you sure you don’t want him to punch you, just in case?” Jessica piped up from where she was curled up on one of the adjacent desks. “I can say I tried to restrain him.”

Kiran typed a quick combination of letters and numbers and the screen went white and blue.

”That won’t be necessary. I’ll make sure to cover my tracks. I’ll just be in and out and no one will ever know we were there.”

”Okay, network is hooked up. Now let’s see if we can get something out of the number in Stephen’s phone.”

Jon shifted nervously. “I never said it was Stephen’s phone.”

Kiran kept typing, his eyes on the screen. “You may not be as tech savvy as you would want to be, but you wouldn’t be dumb enough to use your own date of birth as the pin code.”

Jessica’s eyes were narrowed to slits, studying the screen. “What are we doing here, exactly?”

Nick looked up. “We’re going to find our target by tracing a call we’re going to make to his cell phone. If he’s moderately intelligent he’ll at least have turned his GPS off, so we’re going to have to do it manually. Of course, this requires that he picks up.”

Kiran tapped one of the screens to get the attention of everyone in the room. “These are the coordinates he gave you in Google Maps. Look familiar, Jon?”

”Yeah, it’s the deli at 49th and 8th.” 

Kiran nodded. “Okay, Nick, stand by to begin the trace. Dialing in five… four…”

He typed in a few digits and a new window appeared on the screen. Nick had said they needed to keep the sound off on the other end of the call in order to trace it better, but Jon was sure this was a big fat lie. 

”Hi, my name is Michael Steenburger and I’m calling from Verizon. I'm calling because you've recently purchased a cell phone and we have a special offer for new customers that I think you’ll be interested in. What kind of plan are you using right now? We got your phone number from the retailer. We work with all the major retailers in the Tri-state area.” Kiran snapped his fingers in the air silently. “All right, but keep us in mind. The offer expires in two weeks. Okay, bye.“ 

As soon as the call had ended, he pulled his Bluetooth ear piece off with a snap and swirled around. “Did you trace it?”

Nick’s hands had stopped typing. He shook his head. “There was nothing to trace. It’s a burner phone.”

Jon’s mind conjured up images of drug deals going down in shady alleys. “Wait, what? A burner phone can’t be traced?” 

“Well, you need two cell phone towers to triangulate, and you have to know which are closest to the phone. It can take hours, and with the technology we have in this building,” Nick gestured towards the computer, “we can only trace calls while they’re in progress.”

Jon made up his mind. “Okay, screw it. I’m going to the rendezvous point. Keep an eye on me, will you?”

”Hey guys.”

Nick nodded. “Please be careful, Jon.”

”Guys!” Everyone turned to face Jessica. 

“A burner phone is a phone you’re going to throw away after using, right? What do you say the chances are of someone installing Twitter on a phone they’re going to throw away soon?”

She held up her phone with the screen facing forwards. “Message to telemarketers: stop bothering people who know your products better than you do. Hashtag friendlyadvice, hashtag theconservative is your friend. Tweet sent one minute ago.”

Jon’s heart almost skipped a beat.

”I’ll call his agent! If I call her in person, I’m sure she’ll give me his number.”

Nick shook his head. “What are you going to say? That you want to book him? She’ll never buy that.” 

”Buy what?”

Sam had entered the room silently. She was carrying a small paper box. “Jon? Buy what?”

Before Jon had a chance to speak, Jessica had slid off the desk and was leaning against it, arms crossed.

”I’ve discovered that the perpetrator is using his private phone, which gives us the chance to pinpoint his location. If we have his number, which we currently don’t have.”

Sam looked nervously between Jessica and Jon. “If I had known that’s what you needed… Can you hold on for five minutes?”

 

***

”I’m going to assume that you followed the Heron trial carefully.”

“Of course! It was an attempt on the President. What could be more deserving of my attention than that?”

”I agree. So you know the details of the case, don’t you?”

Stephen nodded eagerly. “By heart.”

”Tell me.”

Stephen stuck his chin up, as much as he could in this position. This was an excellent opportunity to stall even longer; maybe even long enough for the cavalry to show up.

”As you’ve no doubt heard me say on my show many times. President Bush is the greatest President we’ve ever had. He was bound to have many enemies; external as well as internal. With internal, I mean domestic, not inside his body. Though of course there was that one time with the pretzel…”

His kidnapper coughed. “I’m not your captive audience; you‘re mine. Get to the charges.”

”On the morning of September 2nd 2004, three people dressed as members of the wait staff were arrested outside the Oval Office. One of them was Dr. Carrie Heron, a neuroscientist employed at the Department of Defense. In their possession they had a laptop, surgical equipment, tran… “ He cleared his throat. “Tranquilizers, and a previously unseen type of portable device. “

His eyes darted towards the table. There was a black shoulder bag propped up against the wall. It might be big enough to fit the equipment he had just described. 

”During the days that followed, several hearings were held with the three captives. Their criminal intent towards the President was apparent. Dr. Heron refused to explain how her invention worked, but the CIA was eventually able to decode her research notes.”

”Describe how the device works.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Some fancy science-y stuff. I didn’t focus on that part.”

His captor had started rubbing his chin, as if trying to will facial hair to grow on the smooth surface.

”But you know what the device was intended to do, don’t you?”

”Of course.”

”Tell me.”

“They were… They were going to use it to twist the President’s mind. To make everything right and true seem wrong and false, to make good seem evil and evil seem good.”

He felt himself start to get angry again, and it was a welcome change to being afraid. The anger was as fresh as the day when he had marched into Jon’s office and demanded that he denounce what the assailants had tried to do to the President. He had been instantly calmed when he learned that his boss was already planning to; that he was just as angry as Stephen was, even if it was for a different reason. 

That was the moment he had realized he could trust Jon.

He glared at his kidnapper, hoping that he looked as furious as he felt. “Why are you making me say this?”

Suddenly, all playfulness vanished from the kidnapper’s features. He leaned down so that Stephen’s good ear was inches away from his lips.

”So that I’m sure you know exactly what I’m going to do to you.”


	3. Chapter 3

”This won’t be so bad. A lot of people live their whole lives like this. Including your boyfriend, and he seems happy enough.”

The kidnapper had started taking items out of the bag. Electrodes, a laptop computer and the foot long metallic cylinder that Stephen had only seen in photographs. He laid them out neatly on the table. 

”Oh come on, don’t be quiet. Surely you have some final words? Some last wish while you’re still yourself?” 

Stephen glowered at him. “Go fuck yourself.” 

”Ouch! That’s not southern hospitality. Don’t you….”

A buzzing sound was heard. The kidnapper scrambled to pull out his phone. “Ooh, I have to get this. In the meantime….”

He moved in quickly and pressed the end of what looked like an electric tooth brush against Stephen’s neck. “Try to be more agreeable when I get back, okay?” He once again exited the room through the windowless door. Stephen could just about hear how cheerfully he answered the phone before he was gone.

Warmth started to spread out from the point where the sting had been felt. He was pretty sure the object was a jet injector and that he’d just been given the initial dose of drugs to prepare his mind for being altered forever. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

***

Jessica, Sam and Jon all stood gathered around Kiran’s screen watching the visual representation of the call in progress. The sound was coming out of the speakers; raspy and loud, almost drowning out the sound of Nick furiously hitting the keyboard behind them.

_”Do you remember me? We met at the Red Eye Christmas party last year. You do? That’s great. So you know I’m at MSNBC now? Uh-huh. So listen, we’re going to do a segment about conservative comedians and I’m wondering if you would be interested in being booked. You would? That’s great! So, uhm, do you think you’ll be available next Tuesday? We can do a satellite link if you don’t want to come in. Cool! So do you have any material ready? Uh-huh. So, tell me a little about it.”_

Jessica leaned in and whispered to Sam. “Does she always talk like that or is she just nervous?” 

Sam didn’t respond. She kept staring at Kiran’s screen; on the little clock ticking down the duration of the call. One minute had passed. Jon clenched his hands.

Stilted, almost metallic laughter was filtered through the speakers. _“Oh, that's so funny Steven. I'll talk to you soon. Bye!”_

Sam let out a sigh. “Yep, definitely nervous. Let's hope he's too high on his own self-importance to tell.”

Kiran turned around and looked at Nick who gave his thumbs up. Kiran's face broke into a huge smile. “Sweet!”

_”Am I still on the line? I couldn't keep him from hanging up any longer, I'm sorry.”_

”That's okay, we got what we needed. Thank you so much Ms. Cupp. I'm sure Jon will send you a fruit basket or something later.”

Jon was already at Nick's desk. “Where is it?”

”Just a second, going to type the location into GoogleMaps... Yeah, that's nowhere near where he said you should go.”

“Why would he lie about that?”

”I don't know, Sam. But I think it's far more likely he's keeping Stephen close to him than three miles out.”

”Unless he's not keeping Stephen at all.”

“Yeah, well, I can't take that chance. What's in the box?”

Sam seemed to have forgotten what she was carrying. She removed the lid of the box. A plastic object, small enough to fit in the palm of Jon’s hand was lying inside. “Stun gun. I don't know what kind of range it has, you'll have to ask Rick about that.”

Jon picked it up. It couldn’t weigh more than a couple of grams. “Is this it? Is this the only weapon he could find?”

”The metal detector ruled a few things out.” The sound of Rick's soft baritone made Jon turn around just in time to catch the small cylinder thrown his way. “That will pick 95 % of all locks in under ten seconds. The Taser has decent range but it takes a minute to re-charge, so you've got to get in a good shot.”

Jon held the stun gun in his hand. He made sure the safety was on and then wrapped his fingers around the trigger.

He hadn't been in a live situation for many years, and he wasn't sure he trusted either his reflexes or his nerves. But he didn't exactly have a choice, did he?

”I'm pretty good at that, yeah.”

Everyone was silent for a couple of seconds. Nick got up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you need, Jon. Just say the word.”

Jon stood frozen until the hand had been removed. For a second it felt like the only thing holding him together was the people in this room. “Appreciate it. Just keep an eye on me on the satellite and stay in touch with Rick. I trust that you'll drive me?”

Rick pulled back his coat to reveal the service weapon strapped elegantly to his hip. “I’ll stay as close as you want me to stay.” 

Sam’s eyes darted to the gun. “Jon, if Crowder lied to you about the location; what makes you think he didn’t also lie about having the equipment he said he does? Maybe you should bring a gun anyway?”

”I know, but I don't have adequate firearm training and I can’t risk getting Stephen hurt. I just can’t.” He glanced over at Rick and lowered his voice. “Did you find anything out about… the other stuff?” 

Rick nodded.

”Counter Thought-technology isn’t readily available. We’re talking 250 000 bucks a piece, and even then it’s hard to come by. There aren’t that many people around who are skilled enough to build them; even from detailed specs. Which means either this guy has some friends in some really high places…”

”That’s doubtful.”

”Or he’s bluffing. In which case his weapons are of the traditional variety.” 

Jon’s fingers tightened around the stun gun. ”Right.”

“That’s the scenario I would be worried about.” 

Jon turned in time to see Sam elbow Jessica discreetly. 

“What do you mean?”

”I don’t get why you’re so up in arms about the Counter Thought thing, to the point where you seem to be more scared of that than guns. I get that there was some damaging side effects to the procedure in the beginning, but it’s not the worst thing that could happen to your boyfriend. I mean, all it would do is make him like… like you. A Democrat. Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” 

The silence that spread out over the room was so compact that you could hear a pin drop. Jon ran his hand over his face. “I don’t have time for this. But if you think we support brainwashing people, you work for the wrong fucking show.” 

Sam took a step forward as if trying to shield Jessica from further outbursts. ”Okay, let’s take it easy, everyone.” 

But Jessica didn’t seem to be finished. ”I don’t – I’m sorry. It’s just that! Until this morning I thought this was just a television show! But now I know you have your own team of hackers, and a weapons arsenal and a head of security with crazy connections and I’m pretty sure what just happened here wasn’t legal.” Jessica gestured towards the room. 

”So, please, understand that I’m a little shaken up. But if I recall – and I’m not saying the situation with Stephen is the same – if those mad scientists had succeeded it would have cut the Iraq war short and saved thousands of lives. Which is something you _would_ support. And frankly, the risk of your boyfriend coming out of this a much better person doesn’t sound all that terrifying to me.”

The stun gun fell out of Jon’s grip. “He _is_ a good person!”

Sam and Kiran both flinched. Jessica looked like she was about to cry.

”Stephen is an honest and sweet and gentle person and if you think he deserves to be put through a dangerous, illegal _psycho-surgery_ that causes major emotional upheaval in the _best_ case scenario then…” Jon could feel his voice breaking up. “Please tell me you don’t think that.” 

Jessica shook her head forcefully. “I don’t! I’m sorry.” 

“She doesn’t know, Jon,” Nick said calmly. “She would have been, what, fourteen back then? The full extent of the side effects wasn’t reported broadly enough for a teenager to remember.” 

”Jon,” Sam said softly. “Let me and Jessica go to the other location. If Crowder had a thought behind sending you there, we’ll find it.” 

Rick nodded and bent down to pick up the stun gun. “That’s a good idea. Keep your cell phones on. I’ll make sure to get Jon to wherever he needs to be in ten minutes time.”

Nick coughed and pointed to his screen. “Where he needs to be is at the end of East River Promenade.”

Rick looked at Jon and grinned. “I’ll get you there in five.”

*** 

Stephen was fascinated by the light. He had been lifted high by the drugs to the place where fear and anger were but distant memories. He couldn’t feel his wrists anymore but he was sure they had stopped hurting because he couldn’t imagine there being any pain in a place like this.

The kidnapper was adjusting the machine. Stephen could see him fiddle with knobs and type on the computer. None of that bothered him. He knew rationally that this was a very evil man who had taken him against his will and wanted to hurt him; but it was as if that knowledge had been sealed off in a separate compartment where it didn't mean anything to him. 

The light was so pretty; different shades of white swirling gently around a bright pillar. He had never imagined that one color could be so spectacular.

“How does that feel?”

He answered truthfully. “Wonderful.”

“Tell me why you want to do this.”

Stephen felt the confusion like a faint stirring at the edges of his contentment. “I… I don’t want to do this.” 

The kidnapper was perusing a pamphlet. “Ah, sorry. _I’m_ supposed to tell you why you want to do this.” 

Stephen felt a lot better. As long as he didn’t have to be in charge he was fine with whatever would happen. 

The kidnapper turned a dial and the buzzing sensation in his head increased drastically. It felt like when he had put his head on his mother’s tumbler back home as a child. He started giggling. 

Having your mind twisted beyond recognition was a horrible thing, but this stage of it was pretty pleasant. He almost didn’t hear the words that were spoken next.

“You’re going to allow yourself to change because you want to make Jon happy.”

“Huh?” He hadn’t thought of his boyfriend in what seemed like an eternity and the mention of him now made him sit up and pay attention. As much attention as he could, anyway.

“You want to give Jon what he deserves. You love him very much and you want him to love you back.”

Stephen shook his head. His mind had caught on to the one statement he didn’t agree with. “Jon loves me.” 

The kidnapper’s voice was gentle. “How could he love you, Stephen? You stand against everything he believes in.”

He had sunk down in front of Stephen, one hand resting gently on his knee. “Can’t you see that he pities you? It’s clear to everyone else. He pities you, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you. He probably wishes he could love you, but he can’t. Not the way you are.” 

Stephen blinked. He could feel the tears burning behind his eyelids. The truth was there in full color, bright and sharp, impossible to ignore. 

If the heartbreak hadn’t been cushioned by the drugs it would have ripped him in two. 

Tears spilled down his cheeks. A gentle hand wiped them off. He instinctively pressed into it, just the way he always did whenever Jon was touching his face.

“Jon deserves better. And you deserve to be loved. Don’t you?” 

Stephen cried. “Yes! Yes.” 

The kidnapper reached back for something. The buzzing in Stephen’s head started to pulsate and the light got a whole lot brighter. 

“Then this will be quite easy.” 

*** 

Jessica climbed into the car and fastened the seat belt with trembling hands. Nick leaned down so that he was on eye level with Sam. He and Jessica had to have run down the stairs because they were both out of breath.

“It’s still lunch hour, so there should be plenty of other people in the deli. If you see Crowder, don’t engage him. Text me, or call, if you can do it discreetly.” 

Sam nodded. “I promise. We’ll be very discreet.” 

Nick turned to Jessica, whose eyes were still blood shot. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Yeah.” Her voice was shaking but she smiled faintly. “Thank you. For…” she jerked her head in the direction of the door they had just come out of. “I really appreciate it.” 

Nick smiled back at her. “Just doing my job, Ma’am.” 

He slammed the car door shut and stepped back.

Sam maneuvered the car – a sensible Toyota Highlander Jason had selected because the backseat easily fitted three children in car seats – out of the underground garage that few people knew about. In the rearview mirror she saw Nick touch the brim of his imaginary hat and nod. 

Now they were on their own.

“Are you really okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Jessica nodded and pulled out a tissue from her pocket. She started wiping her eyes with it. “Uhm, thanks but… Not really. So, is The Daily Show a secret detective agency or something?” 

“No, it’s a TV show. A TV show that attracts professionals that have skills that match those at the top of their field, but for whatever reason don’t mind the bad pay and strange hours. And us actors, of course.” 

“Do you go on missions? Do you ever have to kill people?” 

Sam shook her head. “No! We don’t kill people! And we don’t go on missions, exactly.” 

Jessica raised one eyebrow. “Uh-huh.” 

Sam stopped at crossing to let some pedestrians pass. The traffic was pretty heavy, but nothing unusual for lunch hour in the city.

“We occasionally go the extra mile to research a story or to keep our guests safe. But we hardly ever break any laws and we never hurt people. Plus, we have very good lawyers.”

“And the studio lets you?” 

Sam shrugged. “They want to keep us on the air. As long as we keep the ratings and the website traffic up we can do whatever we want.”

Jessica let out a whistle. “Impressive. So I’m taking it I’m going to be sworn to secrecy later?”

“You already have been. You signed the confidentiality agreement, didn’t you?”

Jessica was quiet for a few seconds as if she was pondering this. Then she shrugged. “No one would believe me anyway.” 

A couple of minutes later they pulled up in front of the deli restaurant that matched the co-ordinates Jon had received. Sam had driven past there a couple of times but she had never dined there.

She checked her watch. Jon would be arriving at the other location right about now. She turned off the ignition and reached for her belt buckle. Before she could undo it, Jessica had taken her arm in a firm hold. “You should wait in the car.”

“What? Why?”

“If that guy hates The Daily Show so much that he’s prepared to commit a federal crime you can bet your ass he’s watched a lot of episodes. You’ve been on longer. If he’s in there, he’ll recognize you a heck of a lot faster than he’ll recognize me. Especially if I go in alone.” 

Sam felt the familiar sensation of anxious excitement well up inside of her. She felt herself nod, as if her body knew Jessica was right before she did. 

“If he’s in there,” she said slowly, making sure Jessica caught her every word. “It means Jon isn’t in immediate danger, but you are. Don’t do anything that might draw attention to yourself.”

Jessica nodded and got out of the car. “Pinky swear! I’ll be right back.” 

When the car door was shut, Sam leaned back and watched as Jessica strolled up to the restaurant door. She sighed.

“Please don’t get yourself killed now that you’re starting to grow on me.” 

*** 

The restaurant had its regular row of stalls along the windows and tables scattered throughout the rest of the room. In the corner of her eye she could see silhouettes of people sitting at the tables. There was a menu posted over the counter. She pretended to peruse it for a couple of seconds and then took out her purse and bought herself a cup of coffee. Cup in hand, she turned around and surveyed the room, wall to wall, as if looking for a seat.

There were all sorts of patrons; men and women of various ages and ethnicities, in groups and by themselves. But Crowder, whose picture she had studied carefully, could not be seen. Even taking in the possibility that he was wearing a disguise there was no one here who could be him. 

“Any seat is fine, Miss.”

She turned around. “Oh. I was looking for a friend. Do you have a reservation… or a message for Mr. Stewart?” 

The waiter gave her an incredulous look. He looked like he was about to call her out for her stupidity, but then he seemed to remember something. “Oh yeah. It’s the table over there.” 

“Thanks.” Jessica nearly skipped over to the stall he had pointed to. She sat down, and took a casual sip of coffee. 

Maybe she was early. Maybe Crowder would be coming through the door any second now and see her sitting in Jon’s spot. She would excuse herself, play dumb and move to another table. She’d probably have to sit five minutes at least for the sake of credibility. Sam might get worried and come in, Crowder could see her, it would all be ruined…

Jessica took a second, less casual sip of coffee. Time to chill the fuck out. 

_You’re a field agent now, Williams._

There was no room for hesitation or fear while lives hung in the balance. 

There were two possible explanations for Jon being told to come here. Either Crowder would show up, in which case she’d follow her previous plan. Or he had left a message for Jon to find here. 

There was nothing on her seat or the opposite one. She pretended to drop a napkin and leaned down so that she could see under the table. Sure enough, taped to the bottom was a black rubber case, the size of a touchpad. It took some tugging and twisting to get it loose. 

She looked around the restaurant but no one seemed to have seen her. 

She opened the flap and tapped the screen with her finger. It lit up and revealed generic wallpaper and default icons. She turned the pad over and checked for any markings. There were none. Maybe it wasn’t connected to the case at all?

All of a sudden a new window appeared against the blue background. A camera image, shaky at first, and then still. A hand pulled back to reveal the face she had only seen on a still image before.  
She gasped. 

“Hi Jon! I’ve been waiting for your call.” 

The man was waving with one hand while holding the camera up with the other. “You’re right on time.” The camera was turned and Crowder disappeared from her vision. Instead she saw a man sitting in a chair with his arms bent back. His hands were not visible. He was hard to recognize with his hair unkempt and his cheeks streaked with tears.

“See, I realized that your penchant for putting down and ridiculing half the country comes from your secret contempt of your homosexual lover. So I fixed that for you. Not the homosexual part, as I keep hearing that’s incurable, but I dumbed him down enough to make him a liberal.” 

Crowder had taken a hold of Stephen’s chin and had tilted his face towards the camera. The look of pure anguish in his eyes was almost too much for Jessica to bear. Eventually Crowder turned the camera back on his own wide grin. 

“I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together. You’re welcome.”

The video transmission ended but Jessica made no move to put the touchpad down. It was like she was frozen to the spot, unable to think of anything but the conversation she had had with Nick, not twenty minutes ago.

*** 

”Jon,” Sam said softly beside her. “Let me and Jessica go to the other location. If Crowder had a thought behind sending you there, we’ll find it.” 

Jessica pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. She mustn’t cry. Not in front of the others. She had never heard Jon yell before, and yeah, she could understand the stress he was under, but surely she wasn’t the first person to think along these lines?

She could hear Nick cough and say something about the East River. She peered through her fingers. Her boss didn’t look angry, just worried and tired. 

“I’ll get you there in five.” Rick put a hand on Jon’s shoulder and steered him towards the door. 

As soon as they were out of the room Sam straightened up and turned to Jessica. 

“Right. You’re under no moral or professional obligation to come. Don’t worry about Jon; I’ll deal with him.”

Jessica shook her head. “I want to go. I just want to talk to Nick for a minute first.” 

Nick looked at her in surprise. Sam looked between the two of them. “Okay, I’ll go get the car. I’ll meet you at the entrance to the garage in three minutes. Don’t be late.”

Nick shook his head. “I’ll show her where it is, Sam.” 

She exited and Kiran got up to follow her out. “I should… I’ll leave you guys alone for a minute.”

As soon as the door closed behind them Jessica walked up to Nick. “What don’t I know about Counter Thought? Tell me as much as you can in a minute. Two, if you’re a good sprinter.” 

Nick didn’t miss a beat. 

“Even without the side effects, it’s considered to be a human rights violation by most of the international community and every human rights organization that exists. Messing with free will is a seriously fucked up thing to do. But the side effects are what move it from the evil category to the downright monstrous one. Of the thirty official documented cases of Counter Thought – twelve of Dr. Heron’s volunteers and eighteen Al Qaida operatives subjected to the military's reverse engineered copies – fifteen have committed suicide. The shock of having your world view turned on its head will simply be too much for most people. But what’s truly fucking horrible is this,” he stopped to catch his breath.

“It’s nearly impossible to contain the programming to what you want to reverse. Many of the subjects started believing the opposite of basic truths. Truths like that you will die if you stop breathing air or that,” his voice broke a little, “you can’t undo a caesarean section. Or that the people who love you the most are not enemies out to get you. Four of the volunteers ended up murdering their spouses or their children. And these were people who had volunteered to give up a small part of their belief system for what they believed was the greater good.”

Jessica couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They spilled down her cheeks as she tried to imagine going through something like that. 

“So you’re saying that if Stephen is put through this there’s a big chance he’ll die.”

“Or that he’ll try to hurt someone, yes. Probably Jon.” 

*** 

The seconds stretched out like minutes until a startling realization cut through Jessica’s shock. 

She had to warn Jon. 

Willing her body into action, she clutched the pad and ran faster than she had ever run on the track, fuelled by pure panic, past the stunned patrons and out to the waiting car.


	4. Chapter 4

Jon slipped down the stairs as quietly as possible. The first and second floor were both empty. If Steven Crowder was still in the building, he was in the basement. 

The building was one of the new ones that had been put there to store boats and other boating equipment, but hadn’t been taken into use yet. It was the perfect location for someone to hide in plain sight.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard the muffled sound of human voices. He pressed himself against the wall and looked around the corners.

The door in front of him was windowless and made out of pressed steel. It was impossible to tell if it was locked or not. The front door had been but it had been no match for Rick’s master key. If Crowder was behind that door, Jon might not have the chance to pick the lock. Sure, it was silent, but he couldn’t count on Crowder to keep his back turned towards the door for the precious seconds it would take to open it. On the other hand, if it was locked… he would most certainly lose the element of surprise. 

Jon made a split second decision. Sticking his lockpick in his pocket, he raised his stun gun and pushed down the door handle. The door swung open inwards, but before he had a chance to fire, the gun was wrenched out of his hand. He lunged forward, putting all his weight behind his shoulder. They tumbled down on the floor. 

The other man was stronger and quicker, but Jon had the advantage of being prepared to fight. He got in a good kick, and tried to reach for the stun gun. Adrenaline surged through his veins. 

He screamed. 

A hard fist punched him in the stomach and the air was knocked out of him. He tried pulling himself up, but it was too late. The other man, Crowder, was standing a few feet away, stun gun pointed towards him while clutching his side with one hand. 

“Fuck! That hurts!”

Jon kept still and tried to ride out the seconds until he could breathe again. He had had the wind knocked out of him a few times while playing soccer, but he had forgotten how utterly debilitating it was. 

Through his tears he could see Crowder, still clutching his side and wincing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you not understand how to follow directions? Luckily for you I was able to finish! If you had interrupted me ten minutes ago he would be a permanent drooling vegetable!” He pointed toward the middle of the room. Jon turned his head and looked in the direction that Crowder had pointed.

There, on a chair with his hands behind his back was Stephen. It took a few seconds for Jon to realize that Stephen was conscious because he was so unnaturally still. His blood shot eyes were open but fixed on some point far in the distance. 

Jon turned back to Crowder and pushed himself up into a sitting position. “If you hurt him, I will fucking kill you!” 

Crowder pointed the stun gun towards Jon as if to threaten him not to get up further. “Does he look hurt to you? A bit confused maybe, but losing your moral clarity will do that to you. I think the two of you will have a lot to talk about.” 

A soft croaking to his side made Jon turn his head towards the sound.

Stephen’s gaze was now trained on him. He was crying constantly, but quietly, almost like he wasn’t aware of it. “Why did you keep the truth from me?”

The torment in his voice almost floored Jon. He deliberately kept his even. “What are you talking about, babe? I never kept anything from you.”

“The truth… Everything I believed was a lie. Jon, how could you stand to be around me?” 

Jon racked his brain for information on how to act. He had read the reports, but it was eight years ago, and there’d been a hundred different news stories since then. Stephen seemed to be holding it together fairly well, but then again, there was no telling how much of Stephen was left… 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Crowder smirking. When he got his hands on that son of a bitch he was going to make him suffer. 

“I think you’re very upset right now, Stephen, and that’s keeping you from seeing things clearly.” 

Stephen shook his head. “You’re wrong! For the first time, I see everything perfectly clearly.” 

Crowder made a little gesture with the stun gun as if to encourage Jon to keep up the show he was enjoying. When Jon kept quiet, his grin melted away. 

“So, here we are at last. Little old me and the famous Jon Stewart. Only this time he has no secretary to screen his calls for him.”

Jon leaned back, shifting the weight to his hands to give his knees a brief reprieve. “What is it that you want, exactly?” 

Crowder didn’t respond immediately. He flexed his trigger finger and took a deep breath, as if he was scrambling to figure out how to deal with the sudden change of plans. After a few seconds he took a miniscule step towards Jon. “I want you to stop ignoring me! I really don’t think that’s too much to ask. Do you?” 

Jon clenched his jaw. “So why hurt Stephen? He’s done nothing to you!” 

Crowder’s eyes burned brightly. “The best way to get your attention was to hit you where it really hurts. And it worked, didn’t it? This will keep you busy for a while.” He nodded his head in Stephen’s direction. “Unless you decide to cut your losses and ship him off to a care facility.” 

Jon figured it would take him at least two seconds to pull himself up into a standing position and throw himself at Crowder. Two seconds was far too long until he could start beating the shit out of this motherfucker. 

Beside him Stephen was whimpering. “You – you don’t have to send me away. I’m like you now… I’ll be good!” 

He closed his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He’s lying to you.” 

“I … I don’t think he would lie. He’s the one who showed me the truth. But I’m your equal now, Jon. You don’t have to send me away!”

Jon would start with breaking Crowder’s nose. The fingers would probably be next to go. He took a deep breath, tried desperately to keep his voice steady.

“You have always been my equal, Stephen.” 

If there had been any doubt in his mind that his boyfriend had been subjected to Counter Thought, it was now gone. Stephen seemed inconsolable and unable to believe what Jon was telling him. 

“You’re lying! What did you really think of me all these years? What did you say to your friends behind my back?” 

“Nothing! I said nothing! Stephen, I’ve _always_ respected you. You know that.” 

Crowder seemed to make up his mind about what he was going to do. He started walking over to where Stephen was sitting, keeping the stun gun still trained on Jon.

“He really doesn’t understand, does he? What it was like for you all those years.”

He put his free hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “He doesn’t understand how misunderstood and belittled you felt. He probably didn’t even try to.”

Stephen shook his head. “He doesn’t understand me. I want him to understand me.” 

A cruel smile played on Crowder’s lips. “You can make him understand.”

Stephen looked up, beautiful brown eyes plagued by confusion. “You mean…?” 

Crowder turned his gaze away from Jon long enough to wipe the tears off from Stephen’s cheeks.

“Let’s use the device on him. Let’s make him see what it was like for you.”

Stephen’s eyes widened and he started squirming against his restraints. “Let me help! I want to help!”

Bile welled up in Jon’s throat. Every muscle in his body felt suddenly numb. For a terrifying second it felt like he couldn’t breathe or swallow and he wondered if he would die like that, choking on his own vomit. 

The paralysis only lasted a few seconds. As soon as he felt the blood returning he braced his feet against the floor and hoisted himself up into a standing position.

“Hold it!”

Crowder was standing only a few feet away. The tip of the stun gun was pointed directly at Jon’s face, menacing in its plastic simplicity. It wouldn’t injure him to get hit, but it would incapacitate him long enough for Crowder to restrain and drug him. Especially if… especially if he had Stephen’s help.

Jon put his hands up. “All right, sir. No need to use that thing.”

“Back up.” 

He took two steps backwards which gave him a better view of Stephen. He was still sitting on the chair, but hunched over like he was in pain. 

Crowder nodded in his direction. “Hey, Colbert! Get over here and help me tie him up.”

“I can’t.” Stephen’s voice was pained. “My arms hurt. I can’t move them.” 

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not lying! When you’re tied up for an extended period of time your arms go numb. You have to rub them to get the blood back in.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Crowder turned to Jon. “You do it.” 

Jon kept his hands perfectly still. “Do you want me to go to him, or should I wait for him to come to me?” 

Crowder seemed to mull this over for a few seconds. “Go to him.” 

Jon took the few steps over to the chair and sank down on his knees in front of it.

He had to fight the urge to put his hands on Stephen’s face, to hold his hands and kiss his lips. 

He had imagined the moment of their reunion to be triumphant, but now he was just scared. This wasn’t a reunion. This was a life-or-death situation. 

“Going to start with your right arm, okay?” 

Stephen nodded meekly and didn’t say anything as Jon rolled up the white shirt sleeve.

He had done this a dozen times before; massaged some part of Stephen’s body after a stressful day or strenuous activity. But now it was different. The man under his hands was a stranger, quite possibly an enemy. 

The drugs must have caused Stephen to run a fever because the skin felt warm to touch. Jon found the hard muscle and pressed his thumbs into it. 

_“Ow.”_

“Sorry.” 

Stephen looked down at him from under thick eyelashes. “You’ve never cared about hurting me before. No need to start apologizing for it now.”

Jon quickly worked his way up to the shoulder, massaging the arm with circular movements. “You know that’s not true.”

Stephen had turned his head away. The confusion brought on by the drugs seemed to slowly be giving way to anger. He was no longer crying. 

“Of course it is. Don’t pretend that you’ve ever cared about me. The only reason you were with me was because it made you feel good about yourself.”

 _Were._ Past tense.

Jon let go of the arm and shifted on his knees until he could easily reach the other one. He rolled up the sleeve and began the same procedure; press, squeeze, rub. Behind him he could hear rustling and the sound of shoes scraping on the floor. 

“You’re going to have to explain your line of reasoning, Stephen, because I don’t think I get it.”

Stephen had turned his head back when he wasn’t looking. His eyes were perfectly clear now.

“Really, Jon? Are you telling me that those expensive therapy sessions never clued you in on the fact that you’re self-righteous? That you have a constant need to feel superior to your peers: more _patient_ ; more _tolerant_ , more _open-minded_?”

He spat out the last couple of words as if they were curse-words. Any sign of the grief he had displayed not moments ago was gone.

“You have always felt superior to me. In every damn way. That’s why you kept the truth from me. You didn’t want me on your level. You wanted me dumb and worthless so that you could pat yourself on the back for putting up with me. That’s why you never took me seriously. That’s why you never let me make any decisions! Not even about something as small as picking a restaurant!” 

Jon let go of Stephen’s arm like it was burning. He sat back on his heels. “That’s not-“

Stephen slapped him. It was sloppy but hard; the slap of someone who had bad motor skills but the anger to make up for it. Jon instinctively put his hands up, but that didn’t stop Stephen from grabbing the neck of his T-shirt and pulling.

“You son of a bitch! You’re not even serious about rescuing me! My kidnapper could have been armed with guns or knives and you didn’t even bring a real weapon to defend me!”

For a moment, Jon felt like he was suffocating and then the hands were pulled away.

When he had recovered enough to stand up, he saw Crowder behind Stephen, holding his forearm in a firm grip. He looked displeased.

“I see you’ve regained the full use of your arms. Now quit stalling and tie him up.” He shook the hand holding the stun gun. “Or you get a shot of this, too.”

Jon took a deep breath. “Well, that’s going to be a problem.”

Crowder’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Jon tried to steel himself. This was going to hurt like a motherfucker. “Because there’s only one shot in it.”

The distance between them was only a couple of feet, but it felt like it took several seconds to cross. He barely had time to see Crowder’s shocked reaction before he was overcome by searing pain.

Every muscle in his body contracted. His stomach convulsed. He didn’t scream because there was nothing he could scream with. 

There was a loud thud as his body fell to the floor. He couldn’t breathe. There was nothing beyond this. Nothing.

And then it ended.

The plastic gun made a soft fizzling sound and then there was a crack and a thud. 

Tears spilled down his cheeks, but he could move again, and he pulled himself up on shaky legs, ready to fight until his strength ran out. 

There was no one to fight.

Crowder was lying on the floor. His hands were clutching the back of his head and he was moaning softly. 

Stephen was kneeling besides him, holding what looked like strips of plastic in his hand. The skin on his knuckles was scratched. It was obvious he had used the element of surprise to his advantage. He slammed his knee against Crowder’s upper back.

“I said stay down!”

Jon forced himself to take several deep breaths. He couldn’t make a run for it. Running up three flights of stairs was a rough workout even on a good day but now it would be impossible. 

Whatever Stephen’s next move was, he would have to face it head on. 

Stephen was now standing, apparently confident that he had adequately restrained his captor. His eyes caught sight of Jon, almost as if he was seeing him for the first time. 

Jon didn’t have time to put his hands up before Stephen was on top of him. His knees buckled under the weight and the two of them sank to the ground. He braced himself for being hit.

Stephen’s hands were all over his stomach and chest and the back of his head, but Jon soon realized that the palms were open and the fingers were flat. Almost as if…

He cleared his throat. “I’m not injured. I’m okay.”

Stephen let out a whimper and wrapped his arms tightly around Jon, breathing hotly against the side of his neck. 

“I knew you would come! I didn’t mean any of the horrible things I said. I’m so sorry. Jon, please forgive me!”

Jon brought his hands up to rest on Stephen’s shoulders. The vibrations were strong enough for his hands to shake slightly. He pushed gently until his boyfriend’s beautiful, tear-streaked face was turned towards his own. 

“There is nothing to forgive. You saved us both. You are very brave, and whatever…” There was no telling how bad the damage was or how different Stephen would be from now on. All he knew was that it couldn’t possibly matter. He cupped Stephen’s cheek gently. “Whatever you’ve changed your mind about, we’ll find a way to deal with it. We’ll work it out together. Okay?”

Stephen looked puzzled for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I’m still me! I don’t know why, but it didn’t work! I’m still me, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Jon’s breath hitched in his throat. “We should get you to a hospital as soon as possible. Do you remember Richard Coleman, our security chief? He’s parked a block away. I’ll call him and…” 

Stephen pulled Jon’s hand off his face with an irritated sigh. “I’m telling you I’m fine. The doctors can test me and – “ He fell silent as his eyes were caught on something in his lower field of vision. He was completely still, staring at whatever it was that had caught his attention. Jon’s instinct was to shake him.

“Stephen, what’s wrong?” 

The sound of his voice seemed to snap Stephen out of his reverie. He tugged on the hem of Jon’s T-shirt with a look of disappointment on his face. 

“That’s not what you were going to wear to _Pecoral_ , is it?” 

Jon laughed shakily. He could feel a blush coming on. “I had a blazer, and uh, I would…”

He was so focused on Stephen and his own sense of relief that he didn’t notice Crowder until he was standing over them. The next moment his fist had connected with Stephen’s face. Jon scrambled to get up, but it was too late. He was grabbed by the throat and hauled upwards. His air supply was cut off. 

“Stay down!” 

Jon’s head was tilted upwards so he couldn’t see the room, but he heard Stephen respond. 

“I am, I am! Please don’t hurt him.”

The pressure eased on Jon’s throat and was replaced by cold, hard steel. He was suddenly able to tilt his head down enough to see that Stephen was on his knees, cradling his nose. 

“You got one thing wrong, Colbert. I do have a knife. Good for cutting through restraints and for cutting up liberals. Try anything fishy and the boyfriend gets it, okay?” 

The tip of the knife was pressed against Jon’s skin for emphasis. It didn’t feel like it drew blood but he didn’t exactly have enough experience with being stabbed to know for sure. 

“You lost me my manager, Stewart. You humiliated me.”

Jon swallowed a hysterical giggle. Was he supposed to respond to this?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. I can get you better representation.”

“It’s too late for that now. There won’t be much left of you when I let you go. Colbert!” 

Stephen snapped to attention. His nose was bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be broken. His hands were clasped in his lap as if he needed to restrain himself. 

“The hypospray is on the table. Bring it to me without touching the handle. And this time, don’t fuck around.”

Crowder sounded deadly serious, but Stephen made no motion to get up. He stared straight ahead, as if he was trying to avoid looking into Jon’s eyes. He shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

The fingers around Jon’s throat tightened again and just when he thought Crowder would try to choke him to death there and then the pressure eased up again.

“I’m not kidding around! I will kill him, do you get it? You either do as I say or get to watch him bleed to death right on this floor.”

The violent imagery did nothing to hide the nervousness in his voice. Jon took a deep breath and focused; on the sweaty hand around his throat, the labored breathing in his ear and the slight vibrations that meant his attacker was trembling. 

He was either deathly excited to get to the murder part, or…

“You’re not supposed to kill us, are you?” 

The tip of the knife was pressed into Jon’s skin again. “I’m serious.” The note of fear in Crowder’s voice was much more evident now that he knew to look for it. “I’ll do it. I’ll cut you.”

“In that case you should get it over with. I’d rather die than have my soul ripped out and Stephen knows it. He won’t help you.” 

Stephen flinched, but remained seated. Jon tried to read his face for clues on how Crowder was reacting but the only thing he was getting off of him was resolve and fear. 

Crowder swallowed loudly close to his ear. “You’re bluffing.”

“I think you’re the one who is bluffing, and I’m calling it. You can either let us go, or you can kill us. Those are your only options.”

He sought out Stephen’s gaze. This was it, the end of the line. Either he was right or these were the final moments of his eventful life. If that was the case, he wanted Stephen to be the last thing he would see.

“There is a third option.”

He and Stephen turned their heads at the same time. Rick was standing in the doorway, holding his gun with both hands in the grip that Jon knew was meant to keep it steady. 

“You can get shot by me. I guarantee it will be painless.”

Jon wanted to cry in relief. Crowder was trembling so hard that the grip around his throat was slipping.

“Don’t you see I have a knife to his throat?” He spat out the question but it was clear that he was the one fearing for his life. “If you shoot me, he’ll die.”

If it hadn’t been for the gun in his hands, Rick looked like he was having a pleasant conversation with a friend. 

“That’s not how it works,” he said calmly. “If I take the shot you’ll be dead before you move your hand. You won’t even twitch.” 

Jon could hear Crowder gasping as if he was suddenly picturing himself dead. 

“Have you made up your mind?” Rick asked gently.

The hand was removed from Jon’s throat so fast that he stumbled. He was pushed forward and sank to his knees in the same moment that he heard the knife clatter against the floor. 

Stephen’s arms were suddenly around him, holding him up so that he could let his body go limp and heavy. 

He turned his head and saw Rick’s lips form the ghost of a smile. 

“That was the first good decision you’ve made today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You won't even twitch" is from the Miami Vice episode "Glades". I respectfully admit to stealing it.


	5. Chapter 5

The waiting room turned out to be just that: a room for waiting. Jessica checked her Facebook app every few minutes to pass the time, but reading about all those people getting ready for their Friday night just made her restless. 

She finally turned the phone off with an irritated sigh.

“You should get out of here. Go to a club; dance or get wasted or whatever it is you young people do to blow off steam. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

Sam was sitting next to her on the wooden bench, an unread magazine open in her lap. They had raced to the hospital as soon as they had gotten Rick’s message but when they had arrived he had told them to wait for Jon and returned to the studio. That was almost an hour ago. 

“What about you?”

“Jason’s coming over as soon as the babysitter has arrived. I’ll be okay.” 

Jessica shrugged. “I don’t want Jon to think I blew him off. After… You know, after what I said back there.” 

Sam leaned in and put her hand on top of Jessica’s. “You saved his life. And more importantly: you saved Stephen’s. Trust me, you’ll be in his good graces for years.”

“I didn’t do it! If Kiran hadn’t figured out a way to turn the video back on, Rick wouldn’t have known that Stephen wasn’t a threat and he might have shot him. Or he would have showed up too late, or too early. And it was your idea to go to the deli in the first place, and –”

“Hey!” Sam snapped her fingers in front of Jessica’s face. Jessica got the strange impression that this was how she dealt with her children. 

“Listen to me. You did a good job. Anyone even implying otherwise will get their ass handed to them by me, and that includes you. ”

Jessica took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay, I guess you’re right. I probably shouldn’t be so hard on myself since it was my first time out. My next mission will go a lot better.”

Sam opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get it out the door opened and Jon staggered into the room. 

He looked even paler than usual and there was a bandage on his throat, but he was wearing his own clothes which made him look more like a visitor than a patient.

Sam flew up from her chair. “Jon! How are you?” 

He let her hug him and wrapped his arms loosely around her shoulders. It looked like he was barely able to hold them up. 

“I’m fine. Apparently being tazered just hurts like hell.”

She winced in sympathy, and carefully untangled herself. “How is Stephen?”

He looked around the room as if to make sure there was no one who could overhear him. His gaze briefly turned to where Jessica was sitting but he soon looked away. 

“He’s asleep. He soldiered through the examinations but passed out the minute he put his head on the pillow. The EEG showed no abnormality in his brain patterns. They’re going to do an MRI in the morning to confirm but so far it seems like the device really didn’t work on him. They’re going to monitor him for a couple of days, make sure the drugs are out of his blood stream and that he doesn’t go into shock, but… he’s okay. The only thing that seems to be wrong with him is that he’s exhausted.”

Suddenly self-conscious about being the only one sitting, Jessica got up and stood next to Sam. 

“Do they have any idea how that happened? From what Nick told me, the effects are always…” she was going to use one of the descriptive adjectives that had run through her head when she first heard about the horrible side effects, but stopped herself when she met Jon’s eyes. “… pretty bad.” 

He looked away. “The doctor said the scan might give further clues, but so far no one can tell. The best guess is that the procedure was botched somehow.”

Beside her Sam shifted nervously. “Maybe the device wasn’t real? Like Rick said, these things are hard to come by. Did Crowder say where he got it from?” 

“Rick saw the device. He says it’s real.” Jon breathed in sharply. “As for the other guy; I don’t know if he’s talking and I really don’t give a fuck.”

Sam looked at him hesitantly. “Jon, don’t take this the wrong way, but… You know how Stephen always says he knows something is true because his gut tells him it is? Well, while we were waiting for you I re-read that Time Magazine cover story on Counter Thought. No one knows for sure how it works, but one of the theories is that it convinces the subject that he or she has drawn the wrong conclusions from a set of facts and that the opposite conclusions are actually the correct ones. It doesn’t matter if the facts are accurate or if you’ve interpreted them accurately; it’s the connections that your mind has made that makes the process possible. The more complex the connections are, the easier it is for the procedure to take hold.” 

Jon had that look on his face that meant he didn’t like what he was hearing but knew that the other person had a point. “So what you’re saying is that you think Stephen was saved by being irrational?”

Sam placed her hand on his elbow, just below the place where his sleeve ended. 

“I’m saying that for all of Stephen’s outspokenness he doesn’t seem to really believe in that much. He can loudly state his position on any given subject and change it the minute after, most of the time without even being aware that he’s doing it. You know this because you know Stephen better than I do, and trust me, I know him way better than I’d like to.” 

The corner of Jon’s mouth twitched. Jessica could tell that he was trying to smile but was too exhausted to manage it.

Sam squeezed his elbow before she let her hand fall away. “Jon, I’m just happy Stephen is okay.” 

“I know. Thank you.” Jon ran his hand over his face. “This is going to be all over the news in a few hours. We need to call back our own writers and the rest of the researchers as soon as possible. They need to be filled in on what’s happened so they can start preparing for Monday’s show right away. As of this moment, the whole storyboard is scrapped. It’s going to be a long weekend, and Rory will need someone to assist him in overseeing it all.”

He paused and looked at Jessica. “Think you can handle it?”

On the inside she screamed in delight. On the outside, she gave him a calm, professional nod. “Don’t worry, Jon, I’ll take care of it.” 

He gave her a barely perceivable nod. She hesitated for a second and then she said, “I’ll tell the others you need to be with your man.”

***

“Kopek for your thoughts?”

Kiran had Lexis Nexis’ familiar interface up and seemed to have put away his coat and gloves permanently. He looked pretty much the same as he always did while they were working, even though this was the time of the week when work was supposed to be over.

Nick rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “I was just reading up on the Heron trial.”

Kiran held out a pack of chewing gum. “And it’s riveting material, judging by the look on your face. You think they’ll want to revisit it?”

Nick took a piece of gum and shook his head. “Thanks. No, this isn’t for the show. I just wanted to check something.”

“Check what?”

He closed the tab on the browser with a sigh. “I couldn’t remember whether Dr. Heron appealed her death sentence or not.” Quickly, to avoid bringing the mood down, he continued in a more cheerful tone. “I see you’re resigned to staying here all night.” 

“All weekend is more likely,” Kiran said wryly. “Which is really unfair considering that you and I saved the boss’ life earlier. You’d think that something like that would get us off duty.” 

Nick stopped chewing for a second and turned his head. “Do you _want_ to get out of this?”

To his credit, Kiran managed to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before breaking out into a huge grin. 

“Okay, let’s recapitulate: a crime involving one of the 21st century’s most bizarre and unusual weapons was committed against our anchor by an Internet comedian, whose sole motive seems to be revenge for not getting booked for our show. That pretty much fits the definition of a story I would sacrifice my weekend to work on.”

His smile softened. “It’s not hard to see why she didn’t appeal. Her biggest scientific achievement was destroying the lives of several of her closest friends. Could you imagine living with yourself after that?” 

Nick shook his head. “Not really, no.” 

The silence spread out over their shared office. One of the things he liked best about working with Kiran was that they could sit in silence for hours without it being uncomfortable. 

He rubbed the wrist of his dominant hand carefully. The stress of day was weighing him down a little, but he could handle it, now that he knew his co-workers were safe. 

As usual, it was Kiran who broke the silence. “You want to know what I thought you were thinking about?”

“Let’s see. Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

Kiran nodded. “Cuter too, and held up really well under pressure today. Not to mention that she seemed to like you almost as much as you like her.”

Nick almost swallowed the gum. He coughed, feeling a blush spread mercilessly across his cheeks. “Sorry, I have a rule against pursuing girls who weren’t born in the same decade as I was.”

“I know you do. And unless you’re going by some obscure calendar, she _was_ born in the same decade as you. You got her age wrong back when you were defending her to Jon. She wasn’t fourteen in 2004, she was fifteen.” 

“Really?” 

Kiran put his palms together in the mock-prayer gesture. “I think your reputation as a brilliant researcher is slightly exaggerated. Ask her out, Nick. Please.” 

Nick’s hands froze halfway to the keyboard. He turned his chair so that he was facing Kiran directly. “How many people know that you and I have the ability to trace phone calls?” 

Kiran looked surprised but composed himself quickly. “Only the producers and senior staffers know for sure, but it’s a pretty well-known secret in the industry. We’re far from the only show that does it, and if you have a good idea what kind of equipment we have you can make an educated guess. Why?” 

Nick let out a shaky breath. It all seemed so clear to him now. “Using your own phone to make calls is a rookie mistake. Bringing your own phone to the crime scene while you make your calls with a burner phone; that’s something you’ve been told to do. What if someone wanted us to track Crowder down?” 

“You think someone set a trap for him?”

Nick shook his head. The image of Jessica smiling up at him in the car flashed before his eyes. “I think someone set a trap for us.” 

***

The building sat at the end of a quiet street, towering slightly over the surrounding neighborhood. The top floor had a beautiful glassed-in balcony that curved around the corner and provided the occupant with a bird’s eye view to both the street below and the small lush park on the other side. 

It was where he suspected to find his boss, and sure enough, there he was, standing in front of the open window. He had a melancholic look on his face, as if he already knew what he was about to tell him. 

“Sir? I’m afraid I’ve got bad news. Steven Crowder has been arrested.” 

There was no reaction beyond a barely noticeable nod. “Mr. Stewart?”

“Un-countered, sir.” 

“And the device?” 

“In the hands of New York’s finest. Don’t worry, they won’t be able to trace its origins.” 

His boss was quiet for a few seconds as if he was processing the information. With a sigh, he reached for the handle and pulled the window shut. He turned around, hair slightly ruffled from the breeze. “Tell me exactly what happened, Agent.”

He nodded. His contact in the police department had told him everything he needed to know. “Just as we had anticipated, the Daily Show staff was able to track Crowder down and Stewart went to meet him. Unfortunately, something had gone wrong with the procedure and Colbert turned on Crowder rather than helping him. Before he could overpower Stewart, their hired muscle showed up and that was it.”

“Do you have any idea what went wrong?”

He shook his head. “No sir, the procedure is supposed to be very simple. I left detailed instructions for Crowder to follow.” 

His boss gave him a curious look. “And there’s no way he can be connected to you?” 

Even though he knew on a rational level that he was in no danger, his body still showed the familiar fight-or-flight response. “N-no, sir. We never met in person and all our communication was untraceable.”

His boss smiled a little sadly. “Don’t look so scared. I’m not going to kill you.” 

He took a deep breath to force his heart rate to return to normal. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t offend me. We both know that I would kill you if I thought this was your fault, but I don’t. Please understand that I’m not blaming you for this.” 

The tension dissipated almost instantly. He nodded, eager to show that he wanted to help in any way he could. “Sir, the most plausible explanation is that Crowder made an error during the procedure. Do you want me to interrogate him?” 

The other man seemed to mull this over for a few seconds before he sighed and turned to look out the windows once more. “No, it’s not that important. We’ll try something else next time.”

The sun was beginning its slow descent across the sky and a dark yellow light filled the balcony. He followed his boss’ lead and walked over to the window. On the street below people were getting home from work or their errands, carrying briefcases and shopping bags. He tried to imagine what they were thinking; excited to start the weekend and blissfully unaware of the dangerous world they lived in, or the people who would go to terrifying lengths to protect them. He had been one of them once, almost a lifetime ago.

He closed his eyes against the light. “You know there will be heightened security surrounding Stewart from now on. And he is smart enough to know Crowder wasn’t the brains behind this operation. He’ll be on his watch.” 

Beside him he could practically hear the smile in his boss’s voice. “That’s all right. We can wait. We’ll get him sooner or later.”


	6. Epilogue

Video of Charlie Rose interviewing President George W. Bush, 2008-12-12.

BUSH: So the question then is, do you use that kind of power for…for good, for the benefit of the American people or do you let it… do you risk it falling into the hands of evildoers. 

STEWART: Ooooh! I know this one! You use the executive power of the Presidency to destroy the illegal research _and_ the single existing copy of the device, thus ensuring that the technology will never fall into the wrong hands. I’m sure that’s the conclusion the President came to. Phew! I’m glad we dodged that bullet.

BUSH: So I made sure that the technology was developed enough so that it could be used against our enemies abroad. 

STEWART: Motherfucker! I keep getting these wrong, I have no idea why. That brings us to our recurring segment: Changing hearts and minds – the literal edition. Let’s see how the President’s strategy turned out.

ROSE: Six months into the program one of the devices were stolen from an army research facility. It still hasn’t been recovered. Last year the program was discontinued after several of the prisoners committed suicide and several others displayed symptoms of acute mental illness. Has either of these developments led you to reevaluate your decision? 

BUSH: No. I believe strongly that the only way to make America safer was to embrace the new technology. 

STEWART: But it made America less safe! That you built more devices and placed them in facilities where they could be stolen actively contributed to the proliferation of the technology and increased the risk of it ending up in the hands of evildoers by, oh I don’t know, a million percent. This is the very definition of making America less safe! 

But what is most astonishing about this interview isn’t President Bush’s hindsight blindness regarding his strategy, it’s his use of the word _embrace_. For a guy who was almost destroyed by Counter Thought, or as I prefer to call it, Surprisingly Stylish Soul Sucking Device, he sure seemed to be a fan of it. 

BUSH: I think when you’ve reached the point of no longer being able to convince someone by talking then that’s the point where this technology could… could really make a difference.

STEWART: You heard right. If you’re unable to persuade someone with the strength of your argument, you’re allowed to break their mind open and tear it in the direction of your point of view. 

Should your opponent then become psychotic or suffer from acute depression, become increasingly violent or even suicidal, you’ll know you’ve really made a difference. The important thing is that you’ve won them over. 

But perhaps I’m just lacking the experience that the President had at the time when he gave this interview. Because I’d like to think that if I had almost had my mind torn apart by this invention or worse, if I had watched it used against someone I loved, I would do everything in my power to keep it from happening to anyone else. But hey, that’s just me. 

*** 

COLBERT: Doctor, tell us what we’re seeing here.

STEINER: Okay, this is a scan of the human brain.

COLBERT: I sure hope it’s a scan of _my_ brain, doctor. I didn’t spend all those hours inside a large, powerful magnet without getting some sweet high resolution images to decorate my bed room with. I mean, what better sight to wake up to in the morning than glossy, full-color shots of your gray matter?

STEINER: I don’t think this is your brain, Stephen. But you have one just like it, I’ll tell you that. Okay, so marked in green is the frontal lobe which is roughly the part of the brain that helps you make judgments. 

COLBERT: Are you calling me judgmental? That’s not very polite of you, Sir. I had thought my reputation as a fair and just arbiter had preceded me. 

STEINER: Well that’s exactly what judgment is, Stephen. Judgment is the ability to determine similarities and differences between things and events and to choose between good and bad actions. The frontal lobe also helps you draw conclusions and to anticipate the outcome of scenarios. 

COLBERT: And this is the area that’s altered when someone is put through Counter Thought? 

STEINER: Yes. We don’t know exactly how the area is affected because unfortunately there aren’t any scans of the victims’ brains prior to the damage, and the research will be classified for another thirty-five years. But there is consensus in the scientific community that one of the main things affected is the way you draw conclusions. 

COLBERT: Doctor, I know you’ve seen the scan of my brain. Would you testify here and now that my frontal lobe is impenetrable? 

STEINER: I, uh, I can’t attest to that Stephen. 

COLBERT: Well clearly, if this is how the device works and it didn’t work on me than the only possible explanation is that my brain was powerful enough to resist the programming. Doctor, tell me, am I correct or am I right?

STEINER: (laughing) I haven’t studied your case in detail but I’m sure there are several possible explanations. 

COLBERT: Spoken like a true scientist. We’ll be right back with Dr. Matt Steiner after the break! 

*** 

Jon forced himself to take slow measured breaths until his hand had found the lamp switch. Within a few seconds the light bulb had warmed up enough for him to see Stephen, who was lying just a few feet away. 

Tonight he was lucky. Stephen was already turned towards him which meant that Jon wouldn’t have to wake him up. He settled on his side, head propped up by his elbow, and focused on Stephen’s relaxed face and the sounds of his soft breathing. Bit by bit Jon felt his heart rate return to normal.

One of the more pleasant discoveries he had made when they finally got together was how peaceful his boyfriend was in his sleep. When he was awake he never seemed to be still for more than a minute, but the second he closed his eyes it was as if all that restless energy was shut off. Once asleep he lay perfectly still, unresponsive to sound, which made standard alarm clocks pretty useless. He had no nightmares, at least none that caused him to wake up, and he never snored or talked in his sleep.

It was as if his fierce determination had carried over into his unconsciousness, making sure nothing stood between him and a full night’s sleep.

It was yet another way he was Jon’s complete opposite. 

Since being released from the hospital, Stephen had spent every night in Jon’s apartment. He seemed to need to be cuddled even more than before, which worked out great with Jon’s increased need to cuddle him. But except for that one rather pleasant change Stephen didn’t seem to have been effected by the kidnapping. He’d had two psych evaluations; one performed by the hospital and the other by the psychiatrist hired by the studio’s insurance company. Both had returned the same results; that Stephen had emerged from his ordeal unscathed, in every way possible. 

Jon had not been so lucky. 

During an average day he called Stephen six or seven times to make sure he hadn’t gone missing. He got stress reactions just from being in a locked room. He had stopped driving because it exhausted him to navigate the traffic. Handling a knife was out of the question. 

He could see their tormentor everywhere; in the line to the studio, in the diner, in his audience.  
Twice he’d walked out of production meetings to cry. 

And then there was the fact that he was sleeping even less than before. His doctor had given him some Valerian but refused to prescribe anything stronger unless he started going to therapy on a regular basis. 

Jon was starting to think that resuming production without any time off hadn’t been such a great idea after all. 

He brushed the thought away as quickly as it had entered his mind. He was healthiest on his feet, not off them. 

“Let’s make a deal, babe. I’ll get some reading done and when I’m finished you’ll still be here. If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Stephen didn’t respond. He stayed perfectly still, face slightly tilted upwards as if angling for a kiss. 

Jon resisted the urge to drop a kiss on those beautiful lips and nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” 

The tablet was charging on the floor where he’d left it. He picked it up, arranged his pillows to support his back and resumed reading where he’d stopped.

He had always known that his crew was amazingly talented but they had really outdone themselves these last couple of weeks. It was as if the whole team had decided that the attack on him and Stephen had been an attack on all of them and that the best way to fight back was to put on an even better show. 

Jon had pulled Nick aside and asked him not to compromise his job in any way but to send him everything he stumbled on that seemed relevant to Stephen’s situation. He had agreed and had so far forwarded dozens of articles in medical journals that Jon had barely been able to understand and write-ups by people who had been kind enough to use layman’s terms. 

The theories laid forth on how the procedure could fail (all the articles were written before Stephen’s incident) were varied. Some authors theorized that a portion of the population had a natural resistance to the procedure. Others suggested that failure would be due to a handling error. He re-read the passage he had read right before going to bed and tried to let the words sink in this time. 

_One of the key elements to a successful procedure is the initial suggestion, colloquially known as ‘the hook’. The subject is given a mild sedative to make them more susceptible and is then manipulated, through visual stimuli or spoken words, into believing that participation in the process is the only way to help them achieve a specific goal. Because of this the process is sometimes referred to as an_ involuntary participatory process _._

_The operator is required to have some forehand knowledge of the subject’s personal history in order to select an effective hook. It is commonly believed that the suggestions used in the experiments conducted on Al Qaida operatives were religious in nature._

_It is unclear as to what extent the effectiveness of the hook correlates to the severity of the subject’s programming. In theory the programming will not take hold if the hook does not appeal to the subject or if he or she is confident that the stated goal has already been achieved._

_According to the trial testimony of Dr. Carrie Heron none of the initial subjects were suggested in this fashion as their participation was entirely voluntary._

Jon scrolled down to see if the comments added anything of value. Could this be it? Had Crowder misjudged Stephen and tried to bait his mind with something that didn’t appeal to him? Or something he already had? 

It was frustrating to think that he’d never know the answer. 

Stephen had clear memories up until the point where he was drugged and from the time that Jon showed up, but like most other victims he didn’t remember the procedure itself. It was a built in feature of the machine; a safety measure to keep the mind from futilely trying to reverse the process. It was a bit like when you put a cone on a dog to keep it from licking its wound. 

Crowder hadn’t been of much use in that regard either. Apparently being at the wrong end of a weapon had been too much for the little shit, and he had suffered a nervous breakdown two days into his detainment. He’d remembered enough of his crime to sign a full confession, but the details on how he obtained and operated the device were lost. 

This put Jon in the delicate situation of not knowing if he owed Stephen’s safe return to the incompetence of their tormentor. The other possible explanation, slightly insulting as it was, was a lot more preferable. 

He cast a glance to his side. Stephen hadn’t reacted to any of Jon’s movements. He seemed to know on an instinctive level that Jon posed no threat to him.

The bed sheets were covering him from his chest to his knees and his hands lay limp and open on the mattress. He looked like someone who knew he was safe, who understood that the new locks and armed security and combat training should make him less afraid instead of more. 

In this respect, Jon thought bitterly, Stephen was the rational one. 

He opened his calendar and put in a reminder to schedule an appointment in the morning. He wasn’t ready to commit to an extensive period of therapy but if a few sessions could help him get over this faster, he’d try it. After a moment’s hesitation he made another note to ask his instructor to show him how to get out of a choke hold. He wasn’t ready for it yet, but if he waited he never would be. 

When he had finished writing he put the pad back in the charger and moved his pillow so that it was right next to Stephen’s. He turned the light off and lay down, pressing himself as close as he could to Stephen’s sheet-covered body. His boyfriend was warm and alive and unharmed and being close to him made Jon feel better. 

It didn’t matter how Stephen was spared. Just that he was. 

Jon rested his feet against Stephen’s shins and closed his eyes. 

Within minutes he had slipped into a bright dream where the two of them were heroes, fighting side by side to send shadowy villains back into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first attempt at action/adventure. I would love constructive criticism so I can learn for the future.


End file.
